


Cassiopeia

by orphan_account



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been fucking for a few months before Evan actually asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cassiopeia

They've been fucking for a few months before Evan actually asks. They're in bed - as they always are - still panting and exhausted and stickily sweaty from the sex; if they weren't, Johnny would be up, dancing around the room, searching together things, or picking things up or trying to find something, just moving, always moving, like he has too much energy. That, in Evan's opinion, is really creepy, since they did kind of just have sex. And Johnny's a fucking good top, so by all human standards, he should be tired out and unwilling to even lift a finger anymore. Like Evan.

Evan likes his things neatly compartmentalized, one thing of very few he and Johnny actually have in common. He doesn't like to have something floating around on him, bursting painfully in his face at a later date just when he's the least prepared. So he asks, "What is this?" because he's a laid-back guy and if he decides to drag something out, it'll be short and maybe shockingly painful, like a stripe of wax torn off the skin, but at least, it's not going to be a hurting tooth of drawn-out agony.

"What do you mean?" Johnny asks, pulling up the cover. There's a draft in the room.

"Well, is it just a fuck-thing? Or is it, like, less than that, or more than that, or what?" Evan turns to his side and looks at him, head supported on his hand.

"It's just a thing," Johnny shrugs. The light's dim in the room, it's dusking and they haven't got the light on. They need to leave the hotel soon, go back home. They booked for the whole night, but they never stay.

"A thing that's been going on over half a year?"

Johnny fixes him, gaze hard and cool. "What do you want, then?"

"A definition," Evan says.

"So you can what? Tell the world?" Johnny snorts. "Don't go around kidding yourself, it's not going to happen." The glow-phase is over, he's throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and climbing out, naked, pulling the bed-cover with him like a toga. "I need a shower."

"Johnny."

"Oh, don't."

"It's just a question. Geez."

"Well, it's an unnecessary one. If you were looking for definitions, you should have gotten a boyfriend. That would give you your definition. There's no definition for nothing, you know?"

"So we're nothing, then."

Johnny nods, heads through the door.

Evan lays back and sighs. It's not that he wants something exactly, it's just that nothing sounds like a big empty... emptiness, and Evan doesn't like empty. It's depressing.

~

Eight months into nothing, Evan gets to see Johnny's apartment for the first time. They'd have gone to a hotel, but since he's in New York at the time, and Johnny hates to throw out money he could just as well spend on new shoes, he says fuck it and lets Evan come to him.

Paris is at home, doesn't say a word, just packs his stuff up and leaves quietly, whispering something to Johnny on his way out. Evan has a feeling he said that this is a bad idea, but he doesn't really care. He kind of hates Paris. The guy's worse than Johnny, if that's even possible.

Evan starts kissing Johnny as soon as they're alone, and Johnny protests at first because he's hungry and dinner should be on the dot, but then he doesn't protest anymore at all and instead closes his legs around Evan's waist as his back hits the flat surface of the table and Evan fucks him like that. It's awkward and it must hurt, but Johnny doesn't give any indication, just moans harder and uses his entire body to fuck himself as much as Evan's fucking him. Another art he's perfected, Evan thinks cynically, and then goes back to thinking about Johnny and the sex.

~

"It's just that - well. It wouldn't work." Johnny sounds hesitant over the phone, like he almost, nearly half wants to.

"It's not like it's a relationship thing." Evan rolls his eyes. "You've been looking for a place to spend a week's worth of vacation. I know it's all about Russia and whatnot for you, but have you ever actually... you know. Seen California? Los Angeles? San Francisco? Up close? The beaches?"

Johnny gives a sigh. "I guess I could come visit for a few days. But I'm getting a hotel room!"

"Look, I live in LA, it would be a waste."

"Fine. I'll send you a text when I have a plane. Pick me up?"

Evan hangs up and sighs, rubbing his hand over his eyes. He figures he has a plan, he just has no idea how to make it happen without Johnny noticing. Or not protesting, for that matter, because while the subtleties might be lost on Johnny, the glaringly obvious will not.

~

Frank said once that overestimating oneself while underestimating the competition is a mistake only people who need their ego stroked make. Evan has never seen himself as one of those people, but maybe he's always been wrong, because the subtleties of his plan seem to have more similarity to punches in the face for Johnny, which says all about Evan's ability to be subtle.

Johnny categorically tells him to stuff it when Evan invites him to go biking. Instead, he goes sight-seeing. An offer to go play beach-volleyball is turned down in favour of shopping and when, at long least, Evan says he'd like to take Johnny to dinner in his favourite restaurant, Johnny asks if there's a Starbucks around, and then goes to walk barefoot along the beach with his coffee, telling Evan to fuck off when he wants to follow.

"And if you think I can't see what you're doing, you're a fucking bigger idiot than I thought you were," Johnny says later when they're done with the sex that evening and Johnny gets up to go back to the guest room.

Evan winces. "I wasn't doing anything," he tries, going for denial. Hey, sometimes, it even works.

"Uh-huh. Good night, Evan."

Evan lets it go. He always lets it go.

~

It's a bit sad how hung up on Johnny he is, when he has so much more he could be focussing on. But Johnny's there, and the first thing Evan fell in love with was the catty back-talk and the sharp tongue, the second the passionate way he screws - sometimes, Evan just wishes there would be a third to follow.

"We could go swimming," he says, in the end.

"I don't want to," Johnny shrugs. "I'd prefer to just sleep on the beach for a while. Get a tan. If, you know," he smiles sharply, "that's all right with you."

Evan presses his lips together. Okay, so maybe sometimes, he doesn't let it go. "You couldn't, like, for once, make an effort, right?" he accuses. "It's just too damn hard to do something for someone else for once, isn't it. It's always about you, what you want, what you don't like, you can just never, not once, try to meet me half-way in the middle."

"So you've been trying to meet me there, then?" Johnny cocks an eyebrow, pretentious.

"I've been trying to figure out something, anything you might actually like that you maybe might want to share with me." Evan buries his hands in his pockets and clenches them to fists.

"I know."

"So?"

"So, we're fucking. Isn't that enough meeting in the middle?"

Evan would love to say no. Evan would just love to wipe that expression off Johnny's face by bending him over and fucking him, long and painful and so hard that he won't be able to sit for a week without thinking of Evan. He doesn't, because he could never do that, and also, because he doesn't want to give himself away. He can't be angry, not like that. He's the cool guy here. Johnny's supposed to be the emotional screw-up.

He just turns away, says, "oh, do the fuck whatever you want," and goes back to his room to turn on the playstation.

A few seconds later, there are footsteps. The door slams shut. The front door. Evan bites down on his lip so hard it shoots spikes of pain down his spine. He was hoping Johnny would come here and try to fight it out. But Johnny's not your average guy, and Evan should have known better. He thinks he might have just taken on more than he can handle, with this.

~

Johnny returns home to NY and nothing has changed. A few weeks later, they meet in a hotel and fuck until the bed creaks. Season'll start soon. It'll be harder than ever to go unnoticed, unseen. It'll be harder to find a minute to fuck. They make the most of it. Evan's kind of sorry, but he's also kind of not. It'll be good to focus on something else. He's been fucking up the quad more than ever.

~

During Worlds, a few of the guys grab a ball in the warm-up hall and start kicking it around. Carolina, in sweatpants and ponytail, joins in when she notices, and so do Tanith and Meryl, who've come to wish him and Johnny good luck, even though they're in jeans. Verner does a header and Joubert shows off his skills, which are, of course, as far as he's concerned, far superior to everyone else's.

Johnny wanders past the hall as Evan lifts his chin and their eyes meet. Evan stops playing and waves him over. Johnny shrugs, shakes his head and walks on.

"Doubt he'd get a ball in the air," Joubert grins, shrugs. Carolina huffs at him, glaring.

"C'mon, guys," Verner waves. "I'm waiting here. Brian, stop hogging the ball and showing off!"

Evan sighs.

~

"I wish you'd sometimes just... participate, you know? With other guys?"

Johnny sneers. "You mean, 'normal' guys?"

Evan doesn't look at him.

"You're pathetic. I'm doing what I like, and if I don't like to do something I don't. It's just that easy. Why should I force myself to do something just because people think it's appropriate for me?"

"Oh, fuck it." Evan glares. "I'm not asking you to because I think it's appropriate or normal or whatever else, you stubborn asshole. I'm asking because it's something I like to do and sometimes, I feel like it would be even more fun if you'd be there, you know. With me?"

"Well, I won't, so why don't we just let it go?" Johnny glares back, takes his clothes in his arms and returns to his room, steaming.

Evan is angry too, and they didn't even have sex. He really hates Johnny sometimes.

~

The thing is, Evan's kind of lost Tanith's friendship when they broke up, and he can't ask Ben, and nobody else really likes him; they all tolerate him, and since he stopped being mean back to Johnny (and started fucking him) he's only caught himself being a jackass twice and quickly enough to correct himself, so they tolerate him a lot more than they did before, which was when, as Johnny likes to remind him, he was quite a dick.

That leaves him with nobody to talk to about very important things of high national security; those don't usually turn up, so until now, he's been lucky. Now it seems like all he can do is give up on the whole Johnny thing. Giving up isn't something Evan likes to do. He just can't give up. He's a fighter. People might not believe it, or think whatever it is they think, he couldn't care less, really - but he hates giving up on something. It doesn't matter if it's finally doing that fucking quad clean or conquering a steep hill with his bike or making Johnny see that he's in fucking love.

He calls Christina, because she's his sister. She has to listen.

She hangs up on him when he mentions Johnny and fucking in one sentence. He forgot; she's had a crush on Johnny for years.

~

Christina calls him back half an hour later. They're very similar in that regard, Evan knows. He would have too. It's kind of horrifying. Johnny would say it's cute, but Johnny is banned from talking right now, so he wouldn't say anything, really. Or maybe, he'd have Evan's cock in his mouth, which would result in the same. Whatever works.

"I hate you," Christina says, just to be clear.

"I hate myself too," Evan agrees. "Very rarely, but it happens."

"Toodles, Evan -"

"No, no, wait, I was kidding, don't hang up again."

"So talk. Fast. I got practice in half an hour. And tease me one more time about my crushes and you'll get such a beating, you won't recover for a week. The bruises from your skating will be a walk in the park, compared."

"Or, you know, you could just blackmail me with what I'm going to tell you," Evan proposes.

Christina seems to smile. Evan smiles back.

"So, the thing is, we've been doing a lot of the screwing around variety," Evan admits.

"No details," Christina protests.

"Hey, I'm the one who can get you naked pics of him. I can go into as much detail as I want."

"... make them good and you can call again."

"Hm-hm. Knew that'd get you."

"Ass."

"You really don't want to start that game with me, apple-pie."

"I'm hanging up..."

Evan grinned. "Fine. Okay, so, the screwing is happening, but not so much with the rest."

"And by rest you mean -"

"You know. Whatever it is couples do."

"Fucking hell, you're into him." Christina gasps. "Evan!"

Evan feels himself flush and holds the phone a bit away from his ear. She squees his name again. Sometimes, he's scared himself how well he knows his sisters. It should be outlawed.

"So what is wrong, then? Either he's a slut and fucks around with lots of guys, in which case you're fucked, or he doesn't, then he's into you too?" He can hear her think.

"I have no idea. And it's not like it's probable that we'll work out. I tried to get him interested in stuff I like. He's being Johnny Weir."

"... particularly beautiful and beating you on the ice?"

"No! He's being a complete bitch and doing the opposite of what I want."

"I'm rolling my eyes here."

"What? Why?"

"Look, you're trying this with the approach of a brainless bull, aren't you? You're trying to force him into being what you'd like him to be. That might work with other brainless bulls like you, because, having no brain, they're unable to think for themselves -"

"Hey!"

"- but if he's doing the exact opposite, he obviously knows what you're on about."

"Well, duh."

"So, uhm, try to come up from behind!"

Evan gives a long snort.

"Would you get your mind out of the gutter!" Christina sounds amused. "Just do what he likes with him. He'll catch on. Show a bit of initiative. Don't force him to follow you, make him reciprocate the sentiment."

"What if he doesn't?" Evan asks, drumming with his fingers against the bedpost.

"Well, then, obviously, he's really not interested."

Evan thinks about that.

"Hey, now, don't be sad. Look at it this way, at least you'll know, then."

"Yeah..."

"Awww. Poor baby."

"Stop it."

Christina grins. "Don't forget to send the pics. I'll be waiting with my mailbox open!"

Evan groans. Johnny will never let him take the pics without wanting to know what they're for. And he knows his sister. She'll not hesitate to make real on any of her threats. He remembers the days of shit in his shoes too well to think otherwise.

~

Evan fucks Johnny in his hallway, up against the life-sized mirror; he's always had more strenght in his legs than most people want to give him credit for, and Johnny's good at lifting himself up and off his cock by using the mirror as leverage and then slamming down again.

Evan comes first, almost lets go and makes them tumble to the ground, knees shaking so hard, but Johnny comes quickly after that, thankfully, so it doesn't look like he needs to sink down onto the floor when they do exactly that. There's a thin line of pride between want and need, after all.

For a few long, beautiful, cristalline moments, they're glued together, breathing against each other's lips, almost-kissing, then they're kissing, deep and warm and wet, and then Johnny's pulling away, saying, "Shower." He doesn't say Evan shouldn't, so Evan follows.

They don't do anything kinky in the shower. Not much, anyway.

Johnny clothes himself in a thick bathrobe, throws Evan a towel and makes his way to the living room, then to the kitchen, cleaning up on the way, then walks to his bedroom and starts dressing.

Evan dresses slowly, then watches him, distant, trying to gauge his mood, and when he's satisfied with the answer, he goes up to him just as Johnny's pulling up his jeans, places his hands on his hips and says, "So I've been thinking. How about we go out?"

Johnny narrows his eyes. "I'm not going to go golfing with you, or whatever else you will come up with."

"We're not going golfing," Evan grins. "C'mon. It'll be a surprise."

"I hate surprises. They're mostly of the nasty variety."

"C'mon, I promise you'll like this."

"Your version of like includes cars and brainless action movies. I think I'll pass."

"Johnny -"

"Look." Johnny frees himself and crosses his arms before his chest. "If you're not telling me where we're going, I'm not going. Okay?"

"We're going to the Lincoln Center."

"What?"

"Look, I got tickets. For tonight."

"For what?"

Evan feels his own face heat up. "I thought you might like it, right? So if you tell me now you don't or that you've seen it or that you're not interested, I'm going to go, okay?"

Johnny stares. "Evan?"

"They're showing Russian Roots at the Ballett, okay? And I was told it was a must-see and really good, and you're into that kind of stuff, so I thought, it can't be that bad, right? So we're going now." He turns, heads towards the door. He feels like he's going to die on the spot from embarrassment, any second now. He didn't honestly think Johnny would actually like this, did he. This is humiliating. Really humiliating.

He quickly slips into his sneakers, opens the door and walks out, face still flaming, he can feel the heat radiating down to his neck. When he's out on the street, he realizes he forgot his jacket upstairs. He feels an even bigger fool than before.

For a good two minutes, he contemplates going back up again to Johnny's apartment to ask for it, but that would be even more embarrassing. Then the door to the building opens again and Johnny steps out, hair tousled and breathing a bit faster than normally. He's flushed too. And holding out Evan's jacket.

"You forgot that," he says, eyes soft.

"I know," Evan mumbles, taking it.

"We - ah, we should go, then. I'm assuming we're running late already?"

Evan shakes his head. "We've got two hours."

Johnny bites his lip. "So where does one Evan Lysacek go to get food in New York City, then?" he finally asks.

Evan's heart hops once, stills. He coughs. "You didn't, by any chance, call a cab, did you?"

Johnny starts laughing. Evan falls in, hesitantly, and when Johnny pulls hims close and buries his face in Evan's chest, eyes tearing, Evan allows himself a real laugh, and kisses the top of his head.

 

~~~


End file.
